Painted Pink
by jadenanne7
Summary: Red shares a funny story about his past with Lizzie. Fluffy!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. (PS: big shout out to my brother who reminded me that I needed to put this disclaimer.)

Please read and review!

When Raymond Reddington described Cuba, he always said that he found it to be a place of great relaxation… a place where time slowed down and the people slowed down with it. It was a place of endless laughter, endless partying, and endless food. Cuba was his kind of place.

If someone were to ask Elizabeth Keen to describe Cuba, she would only use one word… hot. It was hot. Sweltering, even. She didn't know how she allowed Red to talk her into flying out of the country with him, even if it was to do a little undercover work. Well… she was regretting it now.

Elizabeth tiptoed her way down the stairs of the rather large hacienda that Red had apparently owned for years and tiptoed again through the foyer to the front door.

"Going for a walk, Lizzie?"

Damn. Elizabeth froze with her hand on the door knob. She was so close…. She turned to find that Red had been seated in the large den just adjacent to the foyer and had probably been watching her futile attempt at escape the entire time.

"No. I'm going shopping. I have nothing to wear in this awful place because you forgot to tell me that it guards the entry to Hell."

Red's chuckle reverberated through the foyer as he walked her way.

"Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic? Sure it's a little on the warm side but it's nothing you can't handle."

"A little on the warm side? Red, my entire body is glowing. It's glowing with sweat! I have a permanent sweat sheen covering my body… and you look like you're not sweating at all. How is that even possible?"

It was at least ninety degrees outside and he was wearing slacks and a long-sleeve dress shirt. Not a drop of sweat on his body. It wasn't fair. Red ran his hand down the front of his shirt.

"Linen. Linen is your friend, Lizzie. Especially when you're in Cuba. Learn to love it."

Elizabeth could have slapped the smug look right off of his face.

"Fine. I'll keep that in mind. I've got to go now if I'm going to be back in time."

She took a step toward the door and Red stepped in front of her.

"I'm coming with you."

"Oh no. No! I will not have you dragging me to every high-end boutique in Havana and picking out my clothes like I'm a two year old. I'm going alone."

Red crossed his arms and Elizabeth squared her shoulders defiantly.

"Then you're not going."

Elizabeth was in no mood to play this game.

"Red… unless you want me to attend this meeting in shorts and a tank top, I suggest you move and let me do what I've got to do."

There was going to be a standoff. Elizabeth just knew it. They were going to stand there until it was time for them to leave and meet Red's broker, and then she was really going to be screwed. She wondered what she could do with a belt and one of Red's linen shirts. It could work. The women in Havana seemed to be okay with wearing a lot less…

"Fine. You can go. But I cannot let you go alone."

"Red…"

"Dembe!"

Red's bodyguard came out of nowhere, but Elizabeth wasn't surprised. Wherever Red was, Dembe was not far behind.

"Dembe, Agent Keen needs an escort for the afternoon. You up for a little bit of shopping?"

Elizabeth was mortified. She did NOT need a bodyguard.

"This is really unnecessary."

Red put his hands on her shoulders.

"It's him or me, and I promise you, he has no interest in picking out your clothes."

The face Dembe pulled was quite comical, and Elizabeth's embarrassment melted away.

"Fine. Dembe can take me shopping."

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Dembe wove the car expertly in and out of the crazy Havana traffic. The streets were so close together that Elizabeth closed her eyes when they passed another vehicle. She was a bundle of nerves by the time they reached the first store.

"So what is this place?"

"To be honest, I don't know. It was just the first on the list Mr. Reddington gave me."

Elizabeth promptly turned and headed back to the car.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere on that list. First of all, I couldn't afford a pair of panties from any of those stores. Second of all, I don't see a dress in that window that would cover my ass, let alone anything else. And third, I really just don't want to give Red the satisfaction. So get in the car and drive me somewhere else, please."

It was hard to face down a stone-faced Dembe, but Elizabeth held her own. Then Dembe's face broke into a wide grin.

"Yes ma'am."

Elizabeth smirked to herself as they pulled back into the traffic. Red would not be allowed to micromanage this shopping trip. She might just show up at the hacienda in a bra and a leather skirt. Okay… probably not. But whatever it was, it would be her choice.

Dembe's voice pulled her attention away from her smug thoughts.

"What about this one? I don't think Raymond would approve, but that seems to be the point."

The shop they were stopped in front of was tiny and it looked very old. There was no name on the outside, and the only clue that is was a clothing shop was the dresses and scarves hanging in the doorway.

"This is perfect."

Dembe pushed his way into the store first, finding a chair in the corner and plopping himself down in it. Oh yeah, he was the perfect shopping buddy. Elizabeth browsed through the store, picking up a few summer dresses and piling them in Dembe's lap. He raised his brow slightly but folded the dresses into a neater pile while she finished browsing. She thought she was done, and was about to tell Dembe so when something caught her eye. It was a white linen dress that would hit around mid-thigh on her, with a tight bodice and a flowing bottom. It was not usually something Elizabeth would wear, but it was gorgeous. She slung the dress over her arm and perused the shoes… something else she usually wasn't interested in. She picked a pair of white, open-toed sandals and went to stand in front of Dembe, holding the dress and the shoes out in front of her.

"What do you think?"

Dembe nodded slowly, with a perplexed look on his face.

"It's missing something, isn't it?"

"It's not really my place to say… but yes."

Elizabeth sighed.

"Maybe a bit of color?"

Dembe gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up and Elizabeth went back to her shopping. A scarf or a shawl wouldn't work with the look she was going for, and she was pretty sure that she didn't want a hair accessory. She walked the store until a brightly colored shelf caught her eye. Upon investigation, she found that it was a shelf full of nail polish, of all different colors. Perfect. She sifted through the colors and pulled out a bright red color. It was probably appropriate for the evening, but she wanted something different. A little wild, maybe. She moved the polishes around until she found exactly what she was looking for. Pink. Bright pink. Hey… it was Havana.

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Elizabeth and Dembe arrived at the hacienda an hour and a half before they had to leave to meet Red's broker. She breezed past Red, who frowned at the plain brown paper bags on her arms. He shot a look at Dembe, and Dembe simply shrugged. She made her way into her room and shut her door, dropping the bags on her bed. She had a little time so she took a shower and curled her hair, pleased with the result. It went nicely with her new look. She put on a white bra and panty set and threw on a thin robe. A thick robe would have killed her.

The hard part was over… now for the nail polish. Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her legs up to her chest, trying to get a good angle to paint from. It was almost impossible. She had forgotten why she never painted her toes. This was why. She finished one big toe and sighed. This wasn't going to look right. She couldn't keep her hand steady, so maybe it was just better to take it off. She started to get off of the bed when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in."

Red poked his head into the room.

"I just wanted to check on the progress in here."

Oh, he just thought he was smooth. Elizabeth smirked.

"You just wanted to see what I'm going to wear."

Red's grin could have been guilty, but Elizabeth knew better.

"So I'm busted."

He walked completely into the room and shut the door behind him, peering curiously at her feet.

"Pink? I figured you for a dark purple or a dark red. Or, more than likely, no polish at all."

Elizabeth sighed, wiggling her big toe.

"I was going for adventurous, but I can't get it on by myself, so I guess I'm just going to take it off."

Red shook his head.

"No need."

Elizabeth watched with interest as he pulled a chair from the corner of the room and positioned it in front of her. He sat down and reached for her foot, which she pulled closer to her chest.

"Give me the polish and give me your foot. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Well… she really wanted the polish…. She stretched her leg out to rest on Red's lap and handed him the bottle. This should be interesting. He shook the bottle expertly then started to apply an extra coat over her big toe. He laughed when her face crinkled up in confusion.

"Lizzie, you are good at a lot of things, but apparently this is not one of them."

Elizabeth shrugged.

"I've lived with men my whole life. You need to be taught these things, and Sam was NOT qualified to do so."

It was a horrible truth, but it was the truth. Her mother killed herself before she had a chance to teach Elizabeth anything worth knowing. Any makeup lessons came from high school friends who insisted that she take an interest in her appearance if she was going to hang out with them. They probably thought they were being nice. She was a little offended when Red started to laugh.

"You think that's funny?"

"What? No… no. It's not you or Sam. I was just thinking about something funny. Ignore me."

Red's shoulders started to shake from laughter and he pulled the wand away from her foot.

"I'm sorry… give me a moment."

"What's so funny?"

Red shook his head.

"Please? It would be rude not to share. Come on, Red. Pleeeease?"

Red sighed.

"Fine. It's the bright pink polish. It reminded me of something. My daughter…"

He stopped short and ran a hand over his jaw. Elizabeth nodded her head in encouragement.

"Emma wanted to be a cosmetologist. And a ballerina. And an astronaut. You have to keep in mind that she was about six at the time. Her great aunt did hair and makeup and Emma thought it was just the greatest thing. She brushed her hair constantly, and was infatuated with nail polish, especially her mother's. Jenny finally broke down and bought her a bottle of bright pink nail polish and Emma went crazy. She painted her nails, her mother's nails, and finally wanted a crack at mine."

Elizabeth was captivated. Red never talked about his family. She assumed he found it too painful.

"Tell me you let her."

"Oh I did. My toes, at least. I drew the line at my fingernails. I was in the navy, after all. A man's man. Manly men do not polish their fingernails. But Emma batted her eyes at me and poked out that bottom lip and before I knew it, my toes were bright pink."

Elizabeth laughed.

"How long did you keep it on?"

"That's the funny part. Jenny tore that house apart looking for fingernail polish remover and there was none. None. She had to run to the store and pick some up."

Red laughed and started to paint Elizabeth's toes again, still laughing all the while.

"That can't be it. What happened?"

A slight blush crept over Red's face.

"The only thing that could happen, I guess. I forgot about it. And then Jerry came for a visit."

"Jerry?"

"A buddy of mine from the navy."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hands and gasped.

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. And he noticed right away. He never would let me live that down, but he also never told anybody. Said that he had weekly tea parties with his girls so he had no room to talk."

Elizabeth laughed so hard that she snorted, prompting Red to laugh with her.

"I'm sure your wife got a big kick out of that."

"Oh she did. So did Emma. I wanted to be mad about it, but they laughed and laughed until there was nothing left for me to do but laugh with them."

Red's voice trailed off a bit at the end, and Elizabeth could tell that he was a little sad. He swept the wand across her little toe and blew on it a little.

"There. Professional looking, right?"

Elizabeth nodded once.

"Right."

Red sat her foot gently on the floor and started to rise from his chair.

"Wait. Hold on a minute and you'll get to see what I'm wearing tonight. It's not Chanel, but it's not bad."

She grabbed the bag from the bed and took it into her bathroom, quickly changing into her new ensemble. She examined herself in the mirror and was pleased. The dress fit perfectly, practically fitted to her chest and flowing around her thighs. And the polish on her toes peeked through her sandals, really setting the outfit off. She fluffed her hair one time for good measure and walked out of the bathroom, doing a little twirl for her one-man audience.

"Not bad doesn't describe it, Lizzie. You are really beautiful."

Elizabeth blushed hotly. Red stared at her with barely-contained lust.

"Wow. I was really just going for pretty."

"You will never be just pretty. Not to me."

Before Elizabeth had time to process that little bit of information Red stood and offered his arm.

"Are you ready to go?"

Elizabeth nodded and took his arm, noting the tension in his body. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Red?"

"I don't know. Are you going to let me take you dancing after the meeting tonight?"

Nice change of subject. Elizabeth wanted to push, but she held back.

"Yes."

She might as well get some use out of that dress.

"Then I'm okay. Let's go."

Red slipped his hand into hers and tugged her out of the room, stopping to face her when they reached the landing of the stairs.

"_Can _you dance, Lizzie?"

She started down the stairs without him, not wanting to see his face when she answered.

"We'll find out!"


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! I was going to keep this a one-shot, but at the request of a couple of people I've decided to continue this as a connected series of one-shots.

Please read and review!

I own nothing!

The meeting with Red's broker turned out to be one of the shortest meetings Elizabeth had ever attended. For whatever reason, Red seemed to be in a hurry to leave the mansion in the hills and Elizabeth was feeling the rush herself. There was something menacing about the place, and something menacing about the man, who watched Elizabeth like she was something he wanted to mount on his wall. Or just mount… period. When they left there was no small talk, no invitation to come back, and honestly, there was no want to.

"I hate that I had to drag you to that," Red said as they climbed into the backseat of his car. "Rico is nothing short of creepy. And his house leaves much to desired in the way of decoration. I'd sooner spend the night in a funeral home. I HAVE spent the night in a funeral home and it was much more entertaining than an evening at Rico's."

Elizabeth laughed. Red's exuberance was nothing short of contagious.

"I'm fine, I promise you. We were in and out in twenty minutes. I should have just left my shoes on, seeing as we never left the foyer. Let's talk about THAT for a moment. What was that?" Elizabeth raked her hand through her hair and fished for her lipstick in the purse that she had stashed in the car. She was never one to dress up, but now that she was, she wanted to make sure that she kept it up until the end of the evening.

Red watched intently as she applied an extra coat of lipstick, though she hardly noticed.

"Neat freak. You don't eat outside of the dining room, you don't carry a drink around the house and you most certainly do not track mud on his pristine white carpet with your filthy shoes. He's fun, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He's a blast," Elizabeth said as she tossed the lipstick back in the purse. "But if it's all the same to you, you can leave me at the house next time. In fact, I don't see why I needed to be there at all."

A slow smirk played on Red's mouth.

"How angry would you be if I told you that you didn't? If I told you that I just wanted company tonight?"

Elizabeth examined her pink polished toes and sighed.

"I would be a little miffed, yes. But not completely surprised."

"Oh really? And why not?"

Elizabeth wondered briefly if she should really share this observation but then realized that this might be her only chance. She had better talk now while she had the guts to.

"Because you're lonely," she said, giving him a soft smile.

A look of mild surprise passed over his face and he moved a bit closer to her, draping his arm over the back seat of the car.

"I'm lonely?"

"Well, yes." Elizabeth found her bravery yet again and moved a bit closer to him as well. "You can count on one hand the number of people you can trust. Your closest friends are your faithful employees, and while Dembe is awesome, that must get very lonely. You, Raymond Reddington, are a very lonely man, and if me coming out here with you tonight makes you feel any less lonely, then I'm glad to do it."

"If that's true, then I'm going to have to play the lonely card more often," Red said, his voice so low and deep that Elizabeth leaned into him without even thinking about it. She flushed when she realized what she was doing and turned to look out of the window.

It was going to be a long night.

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"It's time, Lizzie."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"I'm not ready," she pleaded, trying to avoid the crushing humiliation that was surely coming.

The restaurant that Red had chosen was like nothing Elizabeth had ever seen. It was situated outdoors in a large courtyard, the tables arranged in a circle around a gigantic, crowded dance floor. There was a live band and great food and color everywhere. It was like they had crashed an over-the-top New Year's party. Elizabeth did not do New Year's parties.

"You're working on your third margarita, Lizzie. If you're not ready now, then you never will be," Red laughed as he took the drink from Elizabeth's hand and hauled her out to the dance floor. She apologized as she brushed against random people, but they didn't seem to mind and Red certainly did not mind.

They reached a spot where they had a little room to move and Red pulled her against him, laughing when she almost tripped over her own two feet.

"It's a good thing you didn't go with the heels. A broken ankle is a bitch."

Elizabeth glared menacingly at him, but it just seemed to amuse him more.

"I can't dance, Red. I've already told you. There are dozens of other women in here that look like they know what they're doing. Why don't you ask one of them?"

Red was less than amused.

"Because they are not you and I want to dance with YOU," he growled as he spun her out and spun her back into him, leaving her breathless and a little bit dizzy. "You can dance and you will dance. Just keep a hold of my hand and follow my lead. And if all else fails… just wiggle your hips a lot. It will be more than sufficient."

Elizabeth giggled as the margaritas started to kick in and Red wheeled her around the dance floor. He pushed her and pulled her to go exactly where he wanted her, and she found that she didn't mind being pushed and pulled by Red. He knew what he was doing, even if she didn't. She stepped on his toes more than once, but he laughed it off, teasing her gently about her two left feet. They danced this way through several fast songs before the music slowed down into a more lazy rhythm. Red pulled her close and she laid her head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted.

"Would you rather hop up on my feet?" Red chuckled as he felt her yawn through his jacket. "As many times as you've stepped on them they're practically numb."

Elizabeth yawned again.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

His hands left her waist to run up and down her back and Elizabeth practically purred. It was almost a massage. They continued on like this until Elizabeth was moments away from dozing on his shoulder. She was barely coherent when she felt light drops of water hit her face. She looked up at the sky.

"Rain," she said in awe.

"Next time I'm cutting you off after two margaritas. Yes, it's rain," Red laughed as he pulled her toward the exit, along with dozens of other frantic customers.

They didn't make it to the car.

The bottom let out of the sky and water poured onto the crowd, eliciting cries of panic, excitement, and sheer delight. Elizabeth giggled as she twirled around in the water, letting it run over her and soak her clothes.

"Lizzie… Lizzie, your dress!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"I don't care about my dress. Leave me be!"

Red grabbed her arm and pulled her close to his chest.

"Lizzie your dress is white! And you are soaked…" He removed his jacket while Elizabeth shrieked, examining her white dress that was now see-through and clinging to her braless breasts. He flung the jacket over her shoulders and pulled it closed, protecting her modesty as best he could.

"What's the matter, Red?" Elizabeth giggled as she pulled the jacket open to look once more at her soaked dress and Red stepped in front of her protectively, guarding her from the attention she was starting to get from a few leering men. "We can have a wet t-shirt contest right here and now! I win!"

Red pulled the jacket closed again and then put his arm around her.

"Come on, Lizzie. Let's get you to the car before that poor man's eyeballs pop out of his head."

They rushed to the car in the pouring rain and practically dove into the backseat. Elizabeth laughed… harder than she had in years, she realized.

"I really had fun tonight. Thank you for tricking me into coming here."

She gave red a sincere smile, and he smiled back.

"Any time, Lizzie."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Lizzie leaned her head back against the seat, too exhausted to carry on a conversation. And when his hand reached across the middle seat for hers, she took it without hesitation.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! I split up this part of the story into two parts, since it was turning out so be a long one. This one is going to be my short one.

I own nothing! Sadness...

Please read and review!

If Red had known that Cuba was going to bring out this playful, giddy side of Lizzie, he would have brought her a long time ago. By the time they reached the house she had reached a low level of sobriety, something that she wasn't too happy about.

"I want a margarita," she said as she took Red's offered hand and let him help her from the car.

Red smiled indulgently, but refused the request. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lizzie. How about some coffee instead?"

Lizzie yanked her hand away from his and crossed her arms over her chest, shooting him an almost menacing glare. "What do you think is going to happen? Do you think I'm going to do something stupid? We're not in public, I won't be driving, and I want a drink!"

Red folded his arms across his chest, mirroring her defiant stance, quite intent on not giving her her way since she was acting like a rebellious teenager. Lizzie saw his determination and immediately switched tactics.

"Come on, Red. It's Havana! And it's not even late...it would be a shame to waste this beautiful Cuban night." She looked down pitifully and played with the skirt of her dress. "And this may be my only chance to do this. Tom won't travel out of the country and doesn't really approve of me drinking..."

That was all Red needed to hear. If Tom wouldn't let her cut loose then Red certainly would.

"Come on," he cut her off, taking her elbow and guiding her into the house. "I'm sure we have the stuff to make a margarita in here somewhere." Lizzie smiled smugly as they entered the house, and Red wondered how she knew to play the Tom card. He knew he was transparent in his hatred for the man, but he had tried not to display any signs of jealousy. Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough.

Once in the kitchen, Red hoisted Lizzie onto the huge island, eliciting a high squeal and a giggle, a sound that Red stored away in his memory, just in case he never heard it again. As often has he made Lizzie angry, it was a definite possibility.

"Alright...tequila..." Red opened the liquor cabinet and pulled out a big bottle of tequila, placing in on the island beside Lizzie, who immediately picked it up. "Oh! It's the good stuff!" she exclaimed, earning a look from Red. She gave him a half-smile in return. "I mean...of course it's the good stuff." The bottle slipped a bit in her hands and Red tried to reach for it, slightly amused when she hugged it to her. "I've got it. You go find the mix."

"You are a bossy little thing," Red teased. "You're lucky I'm fond of you." Fond. Fond was a good word. Fond was a safe word. Fond could mean an array of things. It didn't have to mean love. There was no need for him to worry that Lizzie could take it to mean love.

A strange, disappointed look crossed Lizzie's face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "Go find the mix," she instructed, suddenly finding the tequila bottle very interesting. Red nodded and searched the cabinets and the pantry until he found the mix. He placed it on the island beside Lizzie, along with a plate of salt and limes.

Lizzie laughed when Red waved his hands over the ingredients. "We now have all we need for a perfect margarita." Red held up the mix and gestured for the tequila. Lizzie shook her head. "Where's the blender?"

The blender.

Did he even have a blender?

"Can't you just make do with a margarita on the rocks?"

Lizzie pulled a face, like she was offended at the very thought. "Where's the blender?"

After a quick search of the kitchen Red came back to the island with a blender full of ice. "There," he said as he plugged it in. "Are you happy now?"

Lizzie nodded emphatically. "Ecstatic."

Red turned his attention to the blender, trying to focus on anything but how Lizzie looked sitting on the island with her legs swinging over the side...her hair still wet from the rain shower...still wearing his jacket...

"Have you forgotten how to do it? Here," Lizzie took the mix from his hand and poured it over the ice. "I'll show you how it's done." She then proceeded to pour a VERY generous amount of tequila into the blender before popping on the top and turning it on.

"I haven't consumed that much tequila since college," Red said as he shook his head, watching Lizzie prepare the glasses from her awkward position on the island. "It's a damn good thing that I have absolutely nowhere to be tomorrow."

"Isn't it?" Lizzie laughed as she poured the drinks into the salted glasses, handing one to Red and keeping one for herself. She raised her glass up in a toast. "To...Havana!"

Red raised his own glass and grinned. "Havana!"


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! Thanks again for the reviews!

I own nothing!

It was raining again. Not hard enough to be considered a storm, but hard enough for all the sane people to head for the indoors. So it made perfect sense that Red and Lizzie set up camp in an alcove of the huge courtyard, barely able to keep dry.

"Weak!" Lizzie proclaimed after taking a sip of the second batch of margaritas that Red had insisted on making himself. "This is watered down mix! Where's the tequila?"

"It's in there." Red gestured to her glass with his own glass of scotch. "I just thought you'd like a margarita that didn't burn going down."

Lizzie pouted. "If your margaritas are so great, why are you drinking scotch?"

Red pretended to ponder this for a moment before giving an answer that would appease the drunken Lizzie. "Scotch is my drink, Lizzie. It's my go-to in times when I am in desperate need of alcohol." He took a long sip and rested his head against the wooden rocking chair he was seated in, indulging in a rare moment of silence, something that Lizzie wasn't the least bit interested in.

"Raymond Reddington, in desperated need of alcohol?" Lizzie wondered aloud. "What in the world does a man like you have to drink over?"

Red huffed in disbelief. What DIDN'T he have to drink over? His family was long gone, his only friends were paid very highly to hang around him, and the woman he loved was currently lounging in the opposite rocker with her white, clinging dress pulled up to her thighs in the Havana heat, completely oblivious to the fact that he would kiss her feet if she just gave him the chance...

"I mean...other than being number four on the Most Wanted list," Lizzie continued with a self-satisfied smirk. "If I was running around with a big target on my back, I would drink too. A lot." She took a sip of her drink and cringed. "Something a lot stronger than that."

Red ran his hand over his loosened tie and sighed. "Yeah well... the scum of the earth needs to drink a bit more than the average person," he joked half-heartedly, swishing the amber liquid around in his glass. He waited for a smart-ass remark from his inebriated companion, but none came. There was a shuffling noise and he turned to find Lizzie sprawled sideways on her chair, her bare legs dangling over the side. She stared at him thoughtfully, as if he were a puzzle she was having trouble piecing together.

When her stare became too much for Red to handle, he gave an expasperated sigh. "What?"

"You're not scum," Lizzie said with confidence. "I've met scum and you're nowhere near it." Her gaze never left Red, although he was doing his best to avoid it. She had never studied him for more than a few seconds, and it was something he was eternally grateful for. If there was anyone who would be able to read him it would be this woman, and he didn't want to be read.

The rain seemed to beat down harder with every passing second, only serving to make the conversation seem even more intense. "So now that we know what I have to drink over, what about you?" Red teased in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood to what it was before. "What does a successful, brilliant, happily married woman like you have to drink over?"

"I kicked Tom out of the house."

That was unexpected.

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Lizzie," Red lied in the best detatched voice he could manage. He was anything but sorry. The warm, pleasant feeling of victory swelled in his chest, and keeping it inside was almost unbearable.

It seemed it was Lizzie's turn to avoid his concerned gaze. She instead focused on her pink polished toes, wiggling them in earnest. "You're not, but thank you anyway. Why do you think I agreed to a trip abroad of indeterminate length with barely a fight? I needed to get away, even if it was only a business trip."

Red laughed in spite of himself. "I didn't bring you here on business, Lizzie." He downed the rest of his scotch in a neat shot and rested the glass on the table between them. "I brought you here because one does not travel through Havana without a gorgeous woman on his arm. It is simply unheard of." Red couldn't help but throw her a flirtatious grin. Tom was slowly inching out of the picture, but Red had to make sure that his own place in Lizzie's picture was solid. Even if he had to take up the whole damn frame...

The remark earned the desired laugh from Lizzie, who had been dangerously close to tears mere seconds before. "I've never been called anyone's arm candy before," she said with a smile. "I don't know if I should be offended or flattered."

Red shrugged. "Perhaps a bit of both." Before he could talk himself out of it, he approached the sensitive subject of Lizzie's failing marriage once more. "I have to ask you, Lizzie...why? What made you finally decide to end it?"

Lizzie sighed deeply and began to swing her legs back and forth over the side of the rocking chair, clearly not caring that her dress was climbing higher and higher up her thighs and driving Red mad... "I don't trust him. I thought I did. Until I realized that I didn't. Make sense?"

It did not. Red nodded anyway, curious to see where this was going.

"I told him I believed him. That I knew he was innocent. And I did. But it was never the same. If he was five minutes late getting home, I wondered where he was. If he took a phone call in another room, I had to fight the urge to listen in. The final straw was when I found myself reaching for his cell to read his texts. That's not me!" Lizzie leaned her head against the side of the rocking chair and sighed, probably from exhaustion. Red waited for her to continue her little rant, knowing that she needed to get it out. If being wasted was the only way she would do it, then so be it.

"So I told him...I told him that something felt off. That something felt broken. I just knew he felt the same way. But..." Lizzie trailed off reluctantly, "Tom flipped out. Accused me of looking for a reason to end it. Accused me of having an affair. That was it. I told him to go. I told him to go and he left. The next day I was in Havana with you. End of story."

Oh, it wasn't the end of the story. Red knew better than that. But Lizzie's eyes were drooping and her face was flushed bright red with drink. It was time for bed. He stood and reached out to Lizzie, flexing his fingers for her to take them. "Come on. You can tell me more tomorrow. It's time for bed." Lizzie nodded, much to his surprise, and took his hand, allowing him to help her stand, but let go immediately. Red reached for her hips when she swayed on her feet. "Yeah, that's what happens when you drink almost straight tequila for three hours."

Lizzie laughed when she attempted to take a step and stumbled. "Wow...this is freshman year all over again," she said loudly, apparently over her melancholy mood from just moments before. She brushed Red's steadying hands off her hips and took a handful of his shirt sleeve. "Lead the way!" She pointed to the house and Red laughed when his jacket sleeve slid down her arm.

"Am I ever going to get that back?" he asked jokingly. Lizzie shook her head emphatically. "Nope. Looks better on me anyway." Red cocked his head to the side and took in her appearance for the millionth time that night. The jacket swallowed her, but still afforded glimpses of the now-ruined white dress that clung to her like a second skin. She had kicked off her shoes long ago, and for the life of him, Red couldn't remember just where. Her hair curled slightly from being soaked in the rain, and her eyes, though slightly glazed, were brighter than he'd ever seen them. "I can't argue with you there, Lizzie."

They managed to make it halfway through the courtyard before the bottom fell out of the sky and the rain poured down harder than ever, bringing with it thunder and bolts of lightning that lit up the night. They ran then, stumbling over themselves until they reached the safety of the house.

"We made it!" Lizzie cried out joyfully as they approached the main staircase. She discarded Red's jacket over the railing and turned on her toes to face him, painfully unaware of the "waterproof" mascara that was leaving tracks down her face. "You also forgot to mention that Cuba was wet. Hot and wet." She pulled a face and Red laughed, choosing to ignore the unintended double entendree. "It must have slipped my mind," he said brightly. "It won't happen again."

Taking her elbow gently, Red attempted to propel Lizzie up the stairs, but she dug her heels in on the first step. "What are you doing?" she said warily, eyeing the hand on her elbow. Red sighed. She certainly wasn't making anything easy on him tonight. "I'm helping you up the stairs so you don't fall and break your neck, he said. Lizzie pulled her elbow away and crossed her arms, staring him down in utter defiance.

"Okay... I can see that's not going to jive. Let's try something else." Red rubbed his hands together in contemplation before finally offering his own elbow to Lizzie. "I'm escorting you to your room. Not because you couldn't make it on your own, mind you, but because social convention dictates that the man escorts the lady until she is safely tucked into bed. Does that work?"

Red breathed a sigh of relief when Lizzie nodded and took his arm. They made it to her room with no problems, and Red opened the door for her, waving her inside. "Goodnight, Lizzie. Come and find me when the hangover hits you. Dembe has an excellent recipe for..."

"I thought you said you were going to tuck me in?"


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys! I'm back! Had a small case of writer's block... but everything seems to be back in working order!

Thank you for sticking with this story and thank you for the lovely reviews. I cherish each one of them!

And remember... I own nothing!

There seemed to be a long laundry list of personal things that Red needed to improve on. At the very top of the list sat the very thing that would be his downfall...saying no to Elizabeth Keen.

He should have left Lizzie at her door and indulged in a cold shower, but one glance into her big blue eyes and he found himself sitting in a chair in the corner of her room, waiting for her to get ready for bed so he could 'tuck her in'. If people only knew how little willpower he actually had...

"Where's the makeup remover?" Lizzie called from the bathroom.

"Sorry, I used the last of it this morning. I'll put it on my list. For now, try soap and water."

"Kay."

Red shook his head before resting it on the back of the chair. Drunk Lizzie was a handful. But then again, sober Lizzie was a handful too. A wonderful handful...

The bathroom door opened and Lizzie stepped out into the bedroom, face freshly scrubbed and her hair in a ponytail that was a little higher than what she usually wore. She was still wearing the dress, Red realized.

"I forgot my night clothes," Lizzie said, following his gaze to her ruined dress. She didn't give him time to reply before wandering over to the dresser and yanking open drawer after drawer, throwing out clothes left and right, obviously not finding what she was looking for.

Red watched with avid curiosity as she plowed through her clothing with the single-mindedness that only the drunk and the high seemed to possess. "Have you lost something?"

More clothing flew across the room as Lizzie opened the last set of drawers and resumed the search. "I can't..." she began, talking more to herself than to Red. "I just... Are you hot?" Lizzie shot up from her kneeling position on the floor and planted her hands firmly on her hips. "I am burning up." Sure enough, her face was a dark shade of red, but Red suspected it was more from the alcohol than the heat. "Aren't you burning up, Red?"

Red shook his head, amused. "I'm fine."

"Of course you're fine! You and your linen! I..." Lizzie cut herself off, her eyes lighting up mischievously. Without another word, she walked out the door, shedding her dress as she went. Red was awarded a generous glance at the swell of her breast from the side as she turned the corner into the hall.

What the hell?

Lizzie was out wandering the halls in a pair of skimpy white panties and Red was sitting in a chair in her room, trying to keep a situation from...um... rising.

This was not how Red had imagined this trip. He just couldn't figure out if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

A few long minutes ticked by and Red seriously considered going to look for Lizzie. After all, it was a big house, easy to get lost in. It was so big that the three of them could stay there for weeks and never have to see each other. The three of them... Dembe! Dembe was in the house, probably awake, maybe even walking the halls as he so often did. Red shot up out of the chair, just in time for Lizzie to stumble back into the room.

Wearing one of his linen shirts.

Well...there was no controlling the situation now.

"I hope you don't mind," Lizzie said, almost shyly. "I just thought... I can take it off if you want me to."

"No!" Red realized that he was shouting, and lowered his voice a bit. "No. I don't mind. You should really keep it. Looks better on you anyway."

Lizzie could have anything Red possessed. Especially his clothing.

Needing no other assurances, Lizzie ambled over to her bed and sat down lightly, swinging her legs over the side. "Well?" She looked over at Red expectantly, and he realized that she was waiting for him. To tuck her in. Heaven help him.

Any decent man would have walked away. It was just a damn good thing that Red didn't do decent.

Lizzie quickly moved off the bed as he approached, giving him room to turn back the covers and fluff the pillow. He gestured for her to get in and she did so happily, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the covers up over her chest. "You've done this before," she said softly.

Red smiled back and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. "Let's just say I've had my share of experiences with drunk young women." He raised an eyebrow playfully, but Lizzie saw right through him.

"I'll bet," she said, smiling. "I know who you were. You were the guy at the frat party who drove the girls home to their parents when they couldn't remember which car they drove up in. You were the guy who let them sleep it off in your bed while you crashed on the floor. You weren't the type to take advantage of a situation. That's who you were. I can see it. What happened? What changed you?" Lizzie rolled to her side and tucked her arm under her neck, preparing for a story.

She would be greatly disappointed.

Red cleared his throat. "Life happened, Lizzie. I joined the navy, met a girl, and stopped going to those stupid frat parties altogether."

Lizzie frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

There was a long silence. Red waited for Lizzie's disapproval of his avoidance, but none ever came.

"I think it's time for me to go to bed. Sleep well, Lizzie, and don't worry...you have all day tomorrow to sleep it off."

He patted her arm and turned to go, just in time for the sky to let loose with a deafening clap of thunder and a crack of lightening that it up the whole house. There was pressure on his arm, and he realized that Lizzie had him in a death-grip.

"Stay."

Red summoned up every ounce of strength he had and removed her hand from his arm, placing it gently back on the bed. "It's just thunder, Lizzie. You'll be fine, just close your eyes and try to get some rest."

He should have known better than to look her in the eyes. Big blue eyes caused nothing but trouble. Red could give several examples to prove that fact, but when his eyes met hers he couldn't think of a single damn one.

"Please?"

She really wasn't playing fair.

Red sighed and nodded his head slightly, beginning the tedious task of removing his vest and belt. When he was down to his slacks and shirt, he moved to join Lizzie on the bed, shocked when she pulled the covers back for him to join her under them. He knew better than to fight her on it. He crawled under the covers, leaving a respectable distance between himself and the woman who kept him up nights, imagining this very scenario. She just wanted comapany. She just wanted to feel safe. She just...threw her arm around his waist and hooked her leg through his, melding her body to his like a second skin. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes, already half-asleep.

"G'night Red. Sweet dreams."

Red knew right then and there that he was screwed. He ran his fingers up and down her spine, trying very hard to remember to be THAT guy...that guy that Lizzie obviously needed him to be tonight. Still, even with all of his trying, there was no stopping the kiss he pressed to her forehead...no stopping his hand from removing the band that held her hair in place...no way to stop himself from inhaling as much of her sweet scent as he could...

He didn't want to stop.

He sighed and pulled her even closer.

"Sweet dreams, Lizzie."


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: On a mission to finish all of my unfinished fics. I figured updating Painted Pink was a good place to start. I've had half of this chapter written for months, and I lost the book I had written it in. I tend to lose things. If you've ever read this before, you'll probably have to skim back over it, and for that I apologize.**

**I own nothing. **

**Reviews are life. If I haven't reviewed yours, it means I haven't read it yet, but I will. RL should stop interfering with my fangirling. **

Elizabeth woke with a dull pounding in her head, hugging her pillow like a life preserver. Afraid to move for fear of falling on the floor, she snuggled into it, amazed at how comfortable it was. Her pillow at home certainly didn't feel like this. It was like embracing a person, all soft and firm at the same time, and it even smelled good. Really good.

It smelled like... Red. Red!

Elizabeth pushed herself up and off the bed, eyeing it accusingly. There was no one there. It was just a pillow. Thank God.

Basking in the utter relief that she hadn't done anything stupid the night before, Elizabeth made her way to the bathroom to take care of her bursting bladder. She was amazed that she wasn't up all night with it. Maybe she was finally catching up on that much needed rest.

After taking care of business, she washed her hands and examined herself in the mirror above the sink. She looked like shit.

Oh well.

At least she had been with it enough to take her makeup off. She pulled her hair back into a very messy bun and smoothed down her shirt, crinkling her nose at the wrinkled linen. She was already back to her bedroom before it hit her that she didn't own a linen shirt. Mortified, she let out an undignified shriek.

"Something the matter, Lizzie?"

How long had he been standing in the doorway, watching her? Red certainly didn't look any worse for the wear, sporting a clean-shaven face and dressed casually in slacks and a button-down shirt. It wasn't fair.

Elizabeth tugged at the shirt she was wearing, even though it came down far enough to cover her panties.

"What did..."

"That shirt looks amazing on you," Red interrupted, grinning like he was the wolf and she was Little Red. "Feel free to raid my closet anytime."

Hyperventilating wasn't something that Elizabeth was especially prone to, but she had to will herself not to do it anyway. Why was she wearing his shirt? Her thoughts ran wild as she attempted to piece together what happened. Had she had sex with Raymond Reddington?

Strike one: she was wearing Red's shirt.

Strike two: her bed smelled like Red. Intoxicatingly like Red.

Strike three: she was standing there like an idiot in a shirt and panties and Red didn't seem phased. In fact, he was looking at her like he already knew what she looked like under her shirt and panties...

She was so screwed. Literally, screwed.

"Breakfast will be ready in ten." Red leaned casually against the doorway, looking for all the world like he hadn't consumed just as much alcohol as she had the night before...maybe even more. "You may not be interested in food right now, but Aspirin and coffee will do you good. I have both."

Elizabeth cringed as he walked away. Food. How could he even think of food? Her stomach turned and she took a deep breath. Clothes. She needed clothes. Closing the bedroom door, even though she was fairly sure that neither Red nor Dembe had any plans to peek in on her, she began her search for suitable cothing.

As if she knew what passed for suitable anymore.

Since the only clothing she had bothered to pick up was sundresses, Elizabeth figured that would have to do. Choosing a blue, knee-length dress that -she was vain enough to notice- matched her eyes perfectly, she swept the loose strands of hair out of her face and braved the trip to the kitchen.

The smell of bacon sizzling in the pan usually set Elizabeth's stomach to growling, but on this particular morning, it was not a welcome aroma. She moaned pitifully as her stomach lurched.

"Since I know that your natural inclination will be to blame me," Red insisted from the small breakfast table, "I'm going to go ahead and cut you off at the pass. The margaritas at the restaurant were your idea; the margaritas at the house were your idea; and the almost lethal amount of tequila in the margaritas was most certainly your idea. Just to set the record straight."

Elizabeth winced as she sank down into the chair across from Red. "Well my natural instinct says you're a liar; but, lucky for you, my memory of last night seems to be in hiding. Taking your word for it seems to be my only option."

Red eyed her sharply. "You don't remember last night?"

"Nope. Complete blur." Elizabeth took the Aspirin laid out for her on the table and washed it down with coffee. Her stomach did not appreciate it.

"Oh." The sharpness in Red's eyes faded and was replaced with something Elizabeth recognized immediately.

Mischief.

"That's a damn shame. We had one of our best talks yet! You're very chatty when you drink, Lizzie."

He was screwing with her.

"Oh really?" Elizabeth played with the handle of her coffee mug, refusing to meet his eyes again. "And what did we chat about?"

Red shrugged. "This and that. It actually got very personal. Anyway, I'm sure you don't feel like dragging all that out again this morning. I know I don't."

Elizabeth let Red's remarks slide. He was only messing with her anyway. The last thing she would ever do was let Raymond Reddington poke around in her personal life.

"I don't think the Aspirin is working," she lied, standing up from her chair. "I think I'm going back to bed."

She turned around and walked away, hoping for a clean break.

Fat chance.

"Has anyone ever told you that you snore?"

Elizabeth kept walking.

"Not like a chainsaw or any other annoying contraption."

She was too smart to fall for this.

"Actually, it's more like little sighs."

Good to know.

"Have you filed the divorce papers?"

Red's timing was impeccable, as always.

Elizabeth stood in front of the door, her fingers frozen to the handle. Memories of the night before flooded back to her, one memory in particular sticking out like a sore thumb.

She had told Red about Tom.

Taking a deep breath, she said the only thing she could think of to say.

"Let's go swimming today."


End file.
